The Scent of Sunshine
by Isabelle
Summary: He didn’t believe in God, so he decided to believe in himself. Eric/Sookie. Set after S2.


**The Scent of Sunshine** by Isabelle

Rating: R, for language and sexual innuendos

Fandom: True Blood

Ship: Eric/Sookie, word INTELLIGENCE

Quickie: He didn't believe in God, so he decided to believe in himself.

Prompt: for my girl jlauren1224, who first requested a Harry/Ginny. I couldn't deliver, so I made her this instead. I hope she likes it and forgives my inability to write H/G anymore.

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He didn't believe in God, so he decided to believe in himself. He had to believe in _something_ now that Godric was gone. Now that he was alone. Now that he had no one else. Belief in oneself was the greatest thing he had yet to discover, aside from the fine taste of children, the rush of fantastic sex, and the smell of Sookie Stackhouse's skin. It was a particular odor he had yet to figure out. He had yet to identify, had to fine-tune, it. It reminded him of the sun. Yet sunlight shouldn't be something he remembered. Especially when a man loved the night so much more. That's what a millennium does to a man.

He dared himself to touch her skin, purposely; with a mission and a determination he had yet to muster around her. It was not that he was shy. It was not that he was unsure. It was that she was _different,_ and different was always something to be weary of.

Her bare leg slid slightly against the contour of his bare shoulder blade, and he felt his skin burn brightly at the touch. Burn, burn, and ignite something in him he had yet to see. Had yet to witness. Had yet to experience. In a millennium. He turned his head to see if her skin was as flushed as his should be, and it was. She turned her head, looking down at him, her neat ponytail brushing against her back, exposing a peek of the nape of her neck.

"Sorry, you're just so tall." That's what she says. That's what she means.

And he smirks because, of all the things she could've said, that is the silliest – and he likes it.

"You know what they say about tall men." His lips feel dry because visions of pounding her run through his head; visions of grasping and grinding himself against her hot pink core melt into his mind and make headway straight to his cock. Ahh… Lust is a powerful thing.

"Is it the same thing they say about tall vampires?" She snaps, and he gives her a full smile because there are few who have dared speak to him the way she does. And he finds it tantalizing. He finds her lips hypnotic. He finds himself wondering how he was so determined to give her his blood, yet he's more obsessed with her than the other way around. He thinks of her all the time, he thinks of _them_ all the time, and it makes a strange thing happen to his crotch (not his stomach, never his stomach, and besides his crotch is near enough to attribute this reaction to his crotch).

"Could be along the same lines." He stands and now faces her.

She's a little thing. He could crush her if he wanted to. Missing Bill or not. He could crush her, kill her, drain her, drain all her emotions with her. Drain her until her breasts shriveled and her corpse rotted.

But then she wouldn't smell of sunshine and roses. He's got more intelligence than that. He thinks more.

He shouldn't like the smell of sunshine, sweat or roses, but he does. And when she walks, as her legs part slightly, the waft of her center finds him and lulls him to something he shouldn't think of. Something he shouldn't dream of. Of a golden bed where they're entangled in one another, where her pink nipples brush against his forearm and her hair is splayed under her, fanning out and welcoming him with a kiss.

"Then I'm not interested," she snaps, but her lip trembles. She's attempting to focus on finding her lost lover while dreaming of making him her new lover, and this inner conflict is what makes it all the worthwhile. Because he sees it now – for her, it'll be considered a long road. In her short years, their back and forth game will be a 'forever' thing. For him, with hundreds of years under his belt, the time between the now and the time when she finally gives in is just a hairsbreadth away. An aroma of sunshine and they're there.

He can wait. After all, he now believes in himself and believes he can make her his. And really, what isn't possible for God?

THE END


End file.
